


Walk with Me to the End of My Road

by maleficaster



Series: Shuake Week 2020 [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: 2/2, Altered Canon Dialouge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Dialogue, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, other characters are mentioned but don't appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleficaster/pseuds/maleficaster
Summary: But the word Maruki used was tragic, and it sits like vomit on his tongue but he knows the content of his stomach is empty.-[Or, in which only one thing is switched. It changes everything and nothing.]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Shuake Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017268
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	Walk with Me to the End of My Road

“So let me ask you the same: after really considering every option, do you have any doubts about your views?” Maruki asks. 

To Akira, the answer is obvious: there is nothing left to doubt. He spoke to everyone and confirmed their stances and listened to their beliefs; ever since they had been freed from their illusions there had been no one questioning their choice, the ten of them fighting together under one belief. They had accepted whatever future was in store for them back in their reality was simply the world they would have to face. 

“What are you getting at?” Akira responds. 

“I suppose it’s more accurate to ask, do you two gentlemen have any doubts? You’re here, aren’t you, Akechi-kun?” Maruki turns to the door and Akira’s gaze follows, listens to the bell ring as Akechi slips inside. 

“Akechi…” Morgana says.

“...You caught me.” Akechi shrugs and stands next to his usual seat at the bar. 

“Oh it was just a hunch. This issue doesn’t only affect you. Akechi-kun, this involves you, too.”

“Both Akechi and me?” Akira looks at Akechi, then to Morgana who is peering up at him. 

“What do these two have to do with…?” 

“The relationship you two share is very unusual. A detective and a phantom thief. Despite being enemies, your relationship isn’t based on hatred or ill-willed. That’s why I found it so tragic when I found out what happened.” 

Tragic? Akira wonders. There had certainly been difficulties in their relationship, through the oddities Maruki had described it, only missing the failed assassination attempt. But there was more to them than that: camaraderie and a little bit of naive hopefulness on Akira’s part. 

As for others options, Akira can think of the difficulties Akechi has had over the last couple of months fitting in with the thieves; he knows Haru and Futaba struggle to communicate with him, keeping their distance and Akira can’t blame them, but appreciates it when they do attempt to talk. Ann’s been trying, he knows, by inviting him out and Akechi’s begun to begrudgingly accept. Ryuji and Makoto are still openly hostile, though he thinks Ryuji is slowly beginning to accept Akechi, and Yusuke’s been rather neutral. Sumire, besides Akira, had been the friendliest towards him, and beyond her initial fears there had been little to worry about. 

But the word Maruki used was tragic, and it sits like vomit on his tongue but he knows the content of his stomach is empty. 

“Say,” Maruki turns to Akechi, “didn’t you regret how things ended with him? You two came to a deep understanding of each other, but you had no choice but to let him go. That’s why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together.” 

“Regret how things ended..?” Akechi murmurs with a deepening glare. 

Maruki sighs, closes his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee. Akechi observes his every action in silence when he flinches and puts a hand to his forehead. Maruki’s mug clinks against the saucer as he sets it down and turns back to Akechi. “I genuinely didn’t want to tell you like this.” Then to Akira. “I didn’t want to make it seem like I was holding your life hostage… but no matter what you may think of me, I just want you to accept this reality and move on with your happy lives.” 

“What do you mean–?”

The table rattles, a bit of Akira’s untouched coffee spills off the side and slips into the saucer to create a dark rim at the bottom. From Maruki’s side of the booth, Akechi has a hand against the table, his other hand on the booth seat to trap Maruki in place. “What the fuck is this?”

Maruki sighs and looks down. “It is simply the truth of that reality. I imagine you are in great shock, honestly, even I’m in disbelief… While I think it is important to commit selfless acts, I do not believe anyone should have to choose to die for the sake of the world, for in the end that would simply create more tragedy.” 

Akira frowns, a weight sinking into his stomach. No one has said it outright, and his mind simply cannot remember such a truth. He closes his eyes to think, when, when would something have happened, when would–

“Kurusu-kun,” Akira feels a hand on his shoulder and glances up to see it was Maruki who pulls away the second their eyes meet. “It’s for the best that you don’t remember everything. With you all in disagreeing with my reality, and your unique connection to the metaverse, I’ve been struggling to keep you here, and if you do remember I will likely not be able to bring you back again. I’m sorry.” 

“Wait.” Morgana steps onto Akira’s leg with wide-eyed panic. “That would mean the you in the real world is…”

“I’m dead,” Akira spits out. 

“Yes, and it was Akechi-kun’s wish, specifically, that allowed me to bring you back.” Maruki looks down at his hands. “I also decided it would be best to erase the memories of the event from both of you… witnessing the death of a loved one is a very traumatic event, and I wanted you to see how you could be happy here, without that hanging over your heads.

“But I also believe the two of you should be allowed to make your final decision fully informed… even if this isn’t how I wished this conversation would go.” 

“You know exactly what you’re doing by telling us this now,” Akechi says. He leans back from the booth but doesn’t move from Maruki’s exit. “And it’s not going to work. I will not let your threat get in my way.” Akechi keeps his gaze focused on Maruki. At his side his fists clench. “And I think you severely underestimate Kurusu’s determination if you think it will stop him.”

Akira nods, but his stomach is in knots. He remembers that the first time he almost died, when they had been vanishing, when their existence hinged on being known but was being forcibly erased. He remembers them fading, one by one, feeling the air get knocked out of his lungs and reaching out his hand, brushing against Akechi’s fingertips just before he faded from existence, reaching for the sky in a final plea. He remembers his vision dimming at the edges, even if he hadn’t been slipping from consciousness until he was gone, keeping his eyes open for one last glimpse of some sign of salvation. He remembers that last thought he had, right before he thought he would disappear, that maybe everything had been hopeless. 

So what had his death been? It’s the haunting question, the one that, if he wants to help seal his fate, that he should avoid answering if it is true that his life hangs by a thread even if he’s itching to cut it.  
He remembers the implications of circumstance, mentioned in not quite cryptic passing only minutes ago. He wonders what made him walk into his own grave. 

Maruki sighs. “I had a feeling the truth of the matter wouldn’t dissuade you, Akechi-kun… but how about you, Kurusu-kun? You heard what Akechi said a moment ago. If that’s how you see it at this point… I’m fine with it. But I’m still going to ask you, one last time: will you accept the reality I create for you?” Before Akira can offer his own response, Maruki continues on: 

“You were the guiding light to my research, you showed me the way so I could make my dream into reality. I have nothing but gratitude for you– not a single ounce of ill will. That’s why I wanted you of all people to live in this world and to understand it…” Maruki stands up from his seat, but doesn’t move in an attempt to get out of it. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask you for an answer on the spot like that. I’ll be going now.” 

“You forgot something.” Akira pulls the calling card from his pocket and tosses it across the table. It slides part of the way, landing with one corner sticking off the table. Maruki peels it off the table and glances at it briefly. 

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard your calling.” Maruki starts to move towards the opening in the seat, and only then does Akechi step away from his spot and closer to Akira. “And about my question– let’s do this… I’ll be waiting in the palace tomorrow, just as I promised. If you still haven’t changed your mind by then, we’ll meet there… but if you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean that you’ve accepted my reality. See you.” 

“What are you going to do?” Morgana’s ears press near the side of his head, his tail hanging still and low.

Akechi says nothing for a moment, and Akira imagines he’s watching to make sure Maruki doesn’t return with any forgotten last words. He looks down at Morgana. “...I’d like to speak with Kurusu.”

“Akechi…” Akira’s certain it’s the first time Morgana’s looked away from him since Maruki’s revelation. “...Gotcha. I’ll leave the decision up to you– let me know when you’ve reached an answer.” He jumps down from the booth, and the two watch as Morgana climbs up the stairs, each step silent. 

After Morgana turns and fades out of view, Akira slides out of the booth and stands next to Akechi, slipping one hand into his pocket. 

“...I will carve my own path for myself. I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.” He crosses his arm and stares at the table. “Even if it means losing you.” Those words are quiet and firm yet stir an ache in his chest.

“I know,” Akira replies. “I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.” 

Akechi stares at him, and Akira can't bring himself to look at him. “You say that, but that does not explicitly mean that you are willing to go through with this. I want to hear you say it aloud. What do you intend to do?”

Akira takes a deep breath, still as a statue so he avoids fidgeting, to hide the tremble in his hand. He died once for an ideal, even if he can’t remember it. He doesn’t want to do it again; he takes a deep breath out. 

“I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.”

But he has to.

“We’re stopping Maruki.”

“All right. I’m relieved to hear it.” Goro takes a step away from him. “I will never accept this form of reality. I’m done being manipulated. Let’s go back… to our true reality.” Akechi turns around, but looks back at Akira. “What’s life in a reality cooked up to satisfy someone else? I say none. We have to win this. No matter what.”

Akechi rushes to the door, but he stops once he’s started to pull it open, letting the cold breeze into Leblanc. Akira can see the snow falling from the sky, watch as it spirals into oblivion on the backstreets. None of it inches close to the cafe, stopped by the overhang. The winter chill settles in Akira, and he’s tempted to rub his arms to warm himself up but he stands there, waiting for Akechi to make up his mind on whatever has him so unnaturally paused.

A minute later Akechi closes the door, still inside the building, but keeps his face toward the door. “I’d like a cup of coffee.” 

“...Sure,” Akira reaches for the Leblanc apron, slips it over his head and ties it around his waist, eyes flickering back and forth between the kitchen and Akechi, who stands unmoving by the door. Akira’s tempted to say something, to bridge this unknown fragile gap, but with the day’s revelations the moment is too precarious to snap. 

Eventually, as Akira starts on Akechi’s usual blend, he steps away from the door and slides into the bar chair as if nothing had happened. He doesn’t say a word but even with his back turned to him Akira can feel as Akechi watches his every movement with a critical eye. 

“Do you intend to tell them?” he asks minutes later when Akira sets the coffee down in front of him. Akechi doesn’t reach for the drink, instead relaxing to absorb the smell and the warmth of its steam. 

“No.” Akira pulls the apron over his head and returns to the empty booth to retrieve his long cold glass. He sets it on the counter next to Akechi’s, pulls out the seat and falls into it. 

“That’s for the best,” Akechi takes a sip. “I’m under the impression the thieves would rather throw it all away than lose their precious leader, or at the very least, refuse to do so without a half-baked plan.” 

Instead of responding, Akira takes a gulp of the icy drink. Frost slides down his throat with a hint of the familiar acidity he’s grown to associate with home. He wants to think that if it had been warm, Sojiro would have been proud of his creation, telling him he had come a long way. His throat feels tight when he remembers he doesn’t have time to have one more lesson with Sojiro.

“I’ll write everyone a letter, I think,” Akira says. “So that there is still some sort of goodbye.” He wraps his hands around the glass, fingers curling around the handle. The glass chills his hands. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave many regrets behind.” 

“That can be a nice sentiment,” Akechi hums in agreement. “Privileged, maybe, but I think they’ll appreciate it.” 

“That includes you, too.” Akira smiles at Akechi. 

Akechi blinks. “I believe it would be wiser to say anything you wish to tell me now.”

“Maybe,” Akira turns away, feeling heat rising to his cheeks, scratches the back of his neck. He could hear Ann, telling him written confessions weren’t always the best option. But he looks at this situation, at the time they have left, and he can’t risk straining their relationship in this remaining time for something as complex as his feelings for Akechi. They have one last fight together, and their synchronization in combat is a wanted necessity, for it will be the last time they could ever work together like in some pleasant dream. “But some things are better on paper… and I don’t want to leave you out.” 

“Don’t bunch me up with them; I don’t want anything to do with your letters.” Akechi frowns. 

“Well, I was gonna ask you to make sure they got delivered…” Akira grins. “But I guess you don’t want that responsibility either.”

“I am not a delivery boy, Kurusu.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“No, but I trust you’d get them to everyone.” Akira scoots back in his seat. “Please?”

He taps a finger against his arm for a minute, before they shift to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Fine.” 

“Thank you,” Akira says. He brings his mug to his lap, but stares into it, dark liquid reflecting an empty image of light back at him, rippling with the slightest shake of his hand only to reform into something vaguely reminiscent of what had been left behind. The grip tightens and he brings it to his lips, let’s himself drown in the broken flavor before setting it back on the counter. “I’m glad you’re here, Akechi. I mean it.”

“Going soft already?”

“I’m probably going to be dead this time tomorrow.”

“I know.” Akechi’s voice sombers. “I wasn’t saying it was unexpected nor a bad thing. Just soon; I thought you were saving it for your letters.”

“And you said you didn’t want one,” Akira parrots with a laugh. “I don’t think I’d have enough time to say all I want to.”

“Then try. Don’t give up on it so easily.” Akira turns to look at him to be met with an intense look from Akechi. He’s a little closer, Akechi’s body turned to fully face Akira, tilted a little forward, elbows resting on his thighs. It’s almost casual, but his shoulders are stiff, but it’s more honest than the television interviews where he would force himself to look relaxed. “Did you not just say that you want to have as few regrets as possible? Or are you more spineless than I gave you credit for?” 

Akira’s eyes shift and he twists his curls between his fingers, but doesn’t turn his body away. He thinks of taking up the challenge, seeking resolution in life to his feelings, to know what Akechi thought of him at the end of his road. He could choose to run away, from the truth of the heart, to pen the secret or take it to his grave. 

He looks back to Akechi, imagines two possibilities: the worst is that he’d storm out, every moment between them shattered not by death nor hate but by reaching for too much, for loving far too much. But he imagines the opposite, there is little time left, but he could spend some of it learning how his body, from the curves of his lips to the shape of Akechi’s hand, fits with him, the start of a lifelong dream begun and ended in a short period of time. 

Without thinking too much more about it, Akira reaches out for Akechi’s hand, pulls it onto the counter and wraps his hand around. He seeks the simple words, somewhere in his consciousness and buried in anxieties, and he feels Akechi’s thumb rub circles into the back of his hand, the leather smooth and fluent as it floats across his skin. 

Akira closes his eyes, tilts his head to the side and takes a few deep breaths, before he opens his eyes and returns his gaze to Akechi’s face. His face betrays nothing to Akira, an actor’s neutrality. “I l–”

Akira feels his hand jerk forward and feels it bump against something. Akechi’s grip on his hand slips so that they bend Akira’s fingers into an arch, and he can only watch wide-eyed as he witnesses a soft rosy color expanding across Akechi’s face. Akechi’s eyes close, and there is a feather light pressure against his knuckles, Akechi’s lips a gentle kiss that lingers against his skin as Akira feels his own face blossom with brighter warmth. For a moment that can easily become a goodbye, it seems so serene even as his heartbeat drums within him, a kind reminder that he is alive in this moment.

His eyes open again, eyes watching Akira. “I love you,” he murmurs without moving away, his lips brushing against his knuckles, each word tickling his skin.

Akira feels the cold within him melt, and he smiles with a brief laugh. “Wasn’t I supposed to say it first?” 

“That was what you were meant to perceive as the intention, but this was a game where our memories do not quite align.” Akechi smirks, and shifts Akira’s hand away from his mouth but pulls it to his cheek. With ease Akira follows, fingers reaching to brush the hair next to Akechi’s face, pressing it as close as he can to his skin while Akechi maintains his hold. “It would practically be cheating if I were to simply goad you into simply confessing before I did. In the past, maybe I would’ve used that to manipulate you so that I could use those feelings against you, but this time, I only wanted to say it first... but only if you would accept it. Which is why I needed to see if you would try and confess first, outside of a letter.” 

“You still manipulated me into trying to confess,” Akira points out.

“And you could have backed out, but I suspected you wouldn’t. Of course, you didn’t disappoint.” 

“I played right into your hands, detective.” Akria grins. “Are you going to arrest me?”

Akechi turns his head towards his hand, presses a short kiss near the bottom of Akira’s thumb that has him reeling in its simplicity. “I would. Taking you in is a very tempting thought...” Akechi contemplates. “But…” a frown forms on his face. “You do have a will to write, and letters to prepare. And I imagine you have a lot to say, and not a lot of time left.” 

Akechi stands, and while Akira’s hand falls from his face he doesn’t let go of his hand. Akira rises to meet him, squeezes Akechi’s hand in his and leans his forehead against Akechi’s. “You’re right,”Akira replies though it hurts to admit. He lifts his freehand and places it once again on Akechi’s cheek, resting his thumb on one corner of his lips and running it along the bottom curve. “May I..?”

Goro nods and Akira moves his thumb away to replace it with his lips; the moment only lasts seconds, lips meeting only to separate just as fast. “I love you,” Akira says.

Goro smiles, but says nothing. Instead he steps away, pulls his hand away while he glances at the floor for a second before he looks back at Akira. “Tomorrow, we face Maruki. Don’t forget anything.” 

The moment shatters, and Akira keeps his hands pressed against his side so he doesn’t reach out. He considers his own words, to ask for greater selfishness or concede to the tide. It would just be one word, that question, but the truth is life trickles through his fingers and Akira has never learned how to convey his self-centered wishes. “I won’t. We’ll win, I promise.”

Goro nods and walks to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow… Akira.”

Then he leaves before Akira can say another word, cold rushing in as the bell chimes a farewell. Akira stands alone in the middle of Leblanc, slips a hand into his pocket and wraps his hand around an empty glove.

“Goodbye, Goro.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> But yeah, this wasn’t a traditional role swap… 
> 
> In general, I love role swap AUs, but for the life of me I could not think of anything specific I wanted to do. I considered doing their first meeting or the interrogation room with Akira and Goro swapped but I don’t have any interesting ideas for that. But I had this idea which is a foundation for an AU idea I've been thinking about. I didn’t want to tackle the AU itself for shuake week since I wrote this less than a week before it’d be posted… so you got this instead. 
> 
> I’m also on twitter @maleficaster.


End file.
